by Moira Rogers
Her heart froze. “They want it to be you?”
He looked up at her, his eyes dark, shadowed. “They want it to be me.”
“I love you.” She said it first, because his tension and fear hurt her heart. Rubbing her thumbs along his cheeks, she tried to push her love into him, to let it rise to the surface like the alphas could with their anger. “Most of the wolves at that funeral pretended they couldn’t see me. That didn’t scare me off. Atlanta couldn’t scare me off, if you wanted me with you.”
“I don’t want you with me, Sera. I need you.” He caught her hand and kissed her palm. “Not just because I love you, but because I really need you. Your help, your advice, all of it.”
The coyote melted. She started to, as well, and it was hard to hold back and draw the line. “I need to be your partner. Not just your lover or your support. As shapeshifters, you protect and I nurture. That’s what we are. But as people…I want to work with you to help people like Syd and Patty. It needs to be my job too.”
He didn’t answer right away. He tugged her hand to his chest so that it rested over his heart, and finally spoke. “If they won’t have you, they won’t have me, either.”
“Julio?”
“I know it’s a lot—”
“If you don’t tell me to shut up, I’m going to propose to you. In a graveyard.”
He barked out a laugh. “I’m doing this wrong. So wrong.”
“No.” She caught his face again and kissed him, a soft brush of lips that she ended before it could become more. “I had the deathless romance and the grand, empty gestures, and I don’t want it again. This is what I need now. A life that doesn’t feel choreographed.”
“If it seems crazy to us, what will it look like to everyone else? To your dad?” Julio shook his head. “I’ll come between you two, and you’ll have to defend this relationship to him. I want to say yes now, I want to yell it as loud as I can. But I need to ask you in a few days, when it still sounds like the best idea ever, and you still want me just as much.”
She hadn’t realized how tight her chest felt until the pressure eased. Not a rejection. But not a hasty acceptance, swept up in emotion and chaos. Sera pressed her forehead to his again and nodded. “You’re right. My dad—he’s going to freak.”
“In a minor way, I hope, but yeah.”
“I need to talk to him. It’s the one thing I never did before, because I knew I was being crazy. And I knew, in my gut, that I was doing something stupid.” She smiled and nuzzled Julio’s cheek. “You’re not something stupid. We might both be a little crazy…but I like our kind of crazy.”
He stroked a hand over her hair. “So do I.”
Chapter Fifteen
Julio had a mansion.
Sitting next to her father under an open patio umbrella, Sera eyed the custom-tiled swimming pool and tried to reconcile it with the two-bedroom apartment Julio called home in New Orleans. Not that the apartment wasn’t nice. It was a hell of a lot classier than the trailer she’d shared with Josh in Arkansas. But this…
This was a mansion. A six-bathroom, eleven-thousand-square-foot, bowling lane in the basement mansion. “I remember you saying that Julio’s uncle had transferred most of his assets to Julio and Carmen before he blew up your clinic, but I guess I never thought about what that meant. They’re rich, aren’t they? Stupid rich.”
Franklin sipped his drink. “They are not hurting for money, though Carmen’s been funneling a ton of hers into the clinics.”
Sera hadn’t asked Julio what he’d been doing with his, because she hadn’t quite understood how much there was. How many generations’ worth of wealth had amassed that fortune? How many packs had ended up like Sydney’s, crammed into tents and living on top of each other with barely enough to eat, all so Cesar and Diego Mendoza could have city penthouses and country mansions and vacation homes across the globe?
Actually, remembering the look in Julio’s eyes when he found out how Sydney’s pack lived gave her the only answer she needed. “I think Julio’s going to start using his to rebuild the packs like the one in Panama City Beach. He helped them a lot in the few days we spent there.”
He made a noncommittal noise and eyed her. “And you want to be part of that.”
“I can do what you do, Dad—make people feel better. Just…not their bodies. Their hearts.”
“Playing hero isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, Sera.”
“I know.” She traced her finger around the rim of her glass and stared at the ice cubes melting into her sweet tea. “I’m not saying I want to be Anna or even Kat. I’m not a fighter, and I’m not ashamed of that. But I’ve got my own kind of power.”
She could feel him watching her closely. “We all have a place, great things we can do.”
“They want Julio to do his great things here in Atlanta.” Bracing herself, she glanced up. “I don’t think he’s going to agree, unless I come with him. And I think I should.”
Franklin swallowed hard and sat forward in his chair. “Sweetheart, he’s a member of the Southeast council. He’s not just a wolf, he’s an important one. And you’re a coyote.”
“I know.” William Levesque and Alan Reed had fought obvious distaste to acknowledge her at the funeral. Their wives had stared through her as if she didn’t exist. But as much as it had stung, she couldn’t forget Patty’s bruised eyes and tentative smile. “I’m still going to try. And Julio won’t let it be too much. He’d cut and run to protect me a whole lot sooner than I’d give up.”
He steepled his fingers and rested his forehead on them. “I’m not sure what you want me to say, Sera.”
She hadn’t really expected him to approve, but her throat still tightened. She swallowed around the lump and tried not to sound too pathetic. “I want you to say what you’re thinking.”
“I’m thinking it won’t be easy. That this world, all the politics, could break both your hearts.” He reached for her hand. “But it’s not about Julio. He’s a good kid, and he’ll take care of you. I like him.”
Sera met her father’s eyes. “Are you thinking I’m being stupid again?”
“No.” After a moment, he sighed and shook his head. “But it wouldn’t matter if I did. It’s your life, and you have to live it. Maybe if I’d understood that a decade ago, you wouldn’t have had to run away.”
“It’s my life now. Back then I was a kid.” She squeezed her father’s hand. “You never crushed my spirit. You never made me feel like being a submissive shifter meant I had a place and I needed to stay in it. I don’t know if you could have stopped me from running away, but if you’d raised me any differently, I might not have been strong enough to know when to come back.”
“Promise me you will this time,” he insisted. “That you’ll come back if you need to.”
She smiled, and her eyes burned as she fought to hold back tears. “As long as you’ll still want me to.”
His brows drew together in a puzzled frown. “Sera, I leave the porch light on at night, and I keep a key taped to the bottom of the mat. Every day since you left with Josh, and not a single one has passed when I didn’t want you to come home more than anything.”
“I’ll come home all the time,” she whispered. So much for not crying. She couldn’t blink fast enough, and she didn’t care. “No matter where I end up, I’ll always come home.”
Her father pulled her into a tight hug. “And you’ll always be welcome there. You’re my little girl.”
For the first time, she didn’t want to argue. So many of her friends had bad parents, or dead parents. Julio was wrestling with the fact that he would have to kill his own father, once they found the man. Her father had done everything in his power to protect her. Even her mother’s madness had come from a desperation to keep Sera safe.
“I’ll always be your little girl,” she murmured. And she was finally grown up enough to mean it.
Julio sank another shot and retrieved his beer from the pavers by his feet. “That’s three i
n a row. Did you know this place has six fireplaces?”
“Six, huh?” Patrick swept up the basketball and dribbled it lazily. “I can see how that would be practical. All those snowy nights in Georgia.”
“European French Provincial, whatever that means.” What it meant was more than ten thousand square feet of pointy gray brick and rooms Julio had never even heard of. “The pool’s nice.”
“Only one ping pong table, though.” Patrick adopted an expression of deadpan disapproval. “Everyone knows you need at least three to be received in polite society.”
“I guess we’ll stick to entertaining the common rabble, then.” Julio looked around, taking in the sweeping columns and the manicured back yard and even the partially hidden side entrance meant for deliveries and domestic help. “It’s so stupid. My uncle didn’t work for any of this. He took it from all the wolves in this territory.”
“The rich get richer. The rest of us get fucked.” Patrick executed a perfect layup and grinned. “I know it’s an asshole thing to say while you’re over there getting your guilt on, but I could get used to my own basketball court.”
“Jerk.” Julio finished his beer and waved the empty bottle at his friend before setting it down. “Grab a contract. Go exorcise a haunted house or two. Do your Scooby Doo thing and get yourself a place. A permanent one.”
“It’s not quite that simple, man. The people with the big money almost never have easy problems. They’re the ones that want you to bump off their wives or their rivals. Or their rivals’ wives.”
“Okay, so a place like this is out of the question.” Julio grabbed the ball and tossed it from one hand to the other. “That still leaves plenty of perfectly affordable options.”
“A home, you mean.” Deprived of the basketball, Patrick retrieved his own beer and drained half of it. “Are you going to give me the same lecture I keep getting from Kat? She’s freaking out that I’ve been crashing in those by-the-week motels.”
“I’d like to think I’m smarter than that.” People like Patrick didn’t respond to lectures. They stared at you until you stopped talking and then walked away, exactly the same as before. “No lectures. Just wondering, that’s all.”
After a moment of silence, Patrick shrugged. “My brother was always home. We never had much stability growing up, so when he got money the first thing he did was put down roots. When I wanted some, I’d borrow his.”
At least something good could come out of the move, and of the house way too big to be called a single-family dwelling. “Then come here. There’s a whole separate apartment on the main level—an au pair suite or something. Take it.”
Patrick grinned. “Isn’t there a lady of the house you might want to talk that over with first? Because you might as well have stamped property of Julio Mendoza across her forehead with the way you acted every time a wolf got within five feet of her at the memorial service.”
She’d be happy to have Patrick there. “Sera’s down with it, trust me. And yes—those bastards had better stay away from her.”
“I don’t think all of them wanted to sneer at her, man. Some were probably just curious. Or wanted to flirt. She’s pretty adorable.”
Redirection at its finest. “Uh-huh. You can tell me no, you know. I’d understand if you wanted to be closer to New Orleans.”
A glare, and Patrick finished his beer. “Stupid thing to want. Anna Lenoir is going to eat me alive and spit out the pieces.”
Julio shrugged. “We want what we want, right? But who knows—she might surprise you.”
“A lack of surprise is not our problem,” Patrick said dryly. “She constantly surprises me. Every fucking day is a mystery with her. When there’s work to be done, we’re a well-oiled fighting team. Off the clock, we’re a goddamn Greek tragedy.”
“Maybe. But she always knows where you are, if you’re getting into trouble. If you might need her help.” Julio tossed the ball at Patrick’s head. “Could be work. Could be she cares.”
Patrick ducked. “Either way. You have some empty rooms in that big-ass warehouse of yours, don’t you? Do you think Alec would let me rent one?”
Julio snorted. “He’s not going to let you give him money. You’re useful in an emergency. He’ll take it out in trade.”
“Well that sounds fucking uncomfortable, not to mention kinky.”
“If you’ve got a secret thing for my brother-in-law, I don’t want to know about it.”
“Not even close.” Patrick raised one eyebrow. “But on the topic of work…maybe we should pull Anna out here. Between the two of us, we can find whatever bolthole your father’s disappeared down. All the wolves are looking for him, but he’d be ready for that. It might be time for some magic.”
“He knows what’s coming.” Sooner or later, he’d have to face Julio’s challenge—or lose by default. “He can’t stay underground forever. And I’d rather have Anna watching Sera’s ex, thanks. He’s a crazy bastard.”
“She can’t keep sitting on him.” A hesitation. “He needs killing, Julio. He’s why they invented the term. I get that it’s complicated, but I could simple it up.”
“Come on, man. I can’t make that call.” It was precisely what Levesque and Reed had been worried about, that slippery slope between someone who needed killing and someone who’d maybe only pissed you off. And yet, they couldn’t do nothing. “Talk to Alec. He’s as close to impartial as we’re going to get on this subject, and he has final say anyway.”
“If you say so.” Patrick retrieved the basketball and launched it toward the hoop. It swished through the net and bounced toward Julio. “But fair warning. Anna doesn’t give a shit what Alec says, and she’s probably already figured out the most expedient way for Josh to have an accident.”
“See?” Julio caught the ball before it flew past him and grinned. “She really is perfect for you.”
Patrick flipped up his middle finger. “Yeah, wetwork’s real romantic. It’s one of the top search criteria on all the best internet dating sites.”
“You’re cute when you’re flustered, McNamara.”
“Compliment me all you want, Mendoza, but you’re not getting me into bed. Not even with Sera.”
“I’ll try to find the will to keep going.” The sky had started to darken, and the floodlights surrounding the property clicked on in the dimness. “I guess I should stop hiding now. Got shit to do, huh?”
Patrick held up his hands for the ball. “Probably. That’s what happens when you’re the boss.”
“Yeah.” He and Andrew and Alec had meetings for the next two days solid. “Maybe by the time we’re done with council business, my father will show his face.”
“Maybe.” Patrick watched him for a few moments, and Julio felt a prickle of magic as he rubbed at a dark line of ink on the back of his neck. “I hesitated,” he said finally, voice quiet. “Your dad was running, and I had a clean shot. But your cousin was down, and I hesitated, because I didn’t want you to hate me for killing all your damn family. I should have done it, so you wouldn’t have to.”
It wasn’t a burden anyone else could take. “You did the right thing. This is something I have to do. It’s time.”
“As long as you let us help where we can. And tomorrow, I’m going to help by finding the bastard.”
“You know what? That’s probably best.” Find his dad, get the whole fucking thing over with.
And get on with his life.
Chapter Sixteen
Sera wasn’t sure she was going to be able to adjust to having a driver, even one that doubled as a bodyguard. “Does anyone ever sit up front with you?”
He met her gaze in the rearview mirror, but only for a moment before shifting his attention back to the road. “Not in recent memory.”
Of course not. Well, if he was going to be driving her around, he’d have to get used to being puzzled. “Thanks for taking me to the airport. It was nice to get to see my dad off.”
“Not a problem. Traffic is fairly l
ight, so we should be back at the house within half an hour.”
“All right.” The man didn’t seem unfriendly, and no one would have picked him to escort her if he had a particular problem with coyotes. He was just stoic. But riding in the back seat while he navigated the roads felt snotty. “Am I annoying you? Asking all the questions, I mean.”
“No.” He glanced up at the mirror again. “It’s different, though. I’m not used to it.”
“Who did you drive around before?” She winced at the awkward phrasing. “Who did you drive for before. Or whom?” Stop talking, Sera. Stop talking. “Probably someone who could actually speak English, huh?”
“Mrs. Coleman, mostly.” He cleared his throat. “My name is Glenn.”
Her cheeks burned, but she still smiled. “Thanks for taking pity on me, Glenn. And—and I’m sorry about Mrs. Coleman. From everything I’ve heard, she was a very kind and generous woman.”
“She didn’t deserve the things that happened to her,” he said simply.
The mere thought of Teresa’s life made her shiver. She’d heard more than one person mutter darkly about Noah Coleman’s modern day Henry VIII drama. After giving birth to an unwanted daughter, Teresa had endured an endless string of miscarriages, each one breaking down her body and draining her spirit.
How horrible, to escape from the husband who’d abused you only to be betrayed by the family who should have been protecting you all along. Sera wanted Glenn to drive her back to the airport so she could chase down her father and hug him again.
Glenn pulled the car to a stop at a red light, and Sera glanced out the window. A Trader Joe’s stared back at her, looking like a hippie utopia tucked away in suburbia. Kat had fallen in love with the place while traveling with Andrew, and Sera’s phone was full of ecstatic text messages and lovingly snapped photos of organic frozen foods.
A culinary adventure might perk up the afternoon. “Do you think we could stop to pick up a few things? We don’t have a Trader Joe’s in New Orleans.”
